Driven
by Luscious Kinney
Summary: One student has been driven too far... Can the tormentor calm the tormented? R+R... ~(COMPLETE!)~
1. Vengeance

I've never felt such... Release.

It's a pity that this type of release came from something so horrible. I should feel awful, staring down at two pleading silver eyes, but I don't. 

"You've driven me too far." I say to those eyes. They tear up.

Are they playing my emotions, or simply welling up with liquid fear? That's a new way to look at it... yes. He's so... beautiful. He's beautiful in the only way evil can be.  Through simple sounds I can tell he's begging for a word or two. It can't happen, reason being if I remove the gag, if I hear that voice... I may lose my nerve.

Now those eyes are angry. Glaring at me. Daggers pure and simple. I reach forward to caress his face. I have never felt skin so soft. He pulled back from my hand as though I was going to slap him. Never. It would never happen.

I wonder what his obituary is going to read:

_Draco Malfoy was a rude, self-important bastard. He loved to torture people endlessly that he believed were not superior, or at least on his own level. He died at the hands of an insane, however well meaning soul. There will be no viewing, no funeral and no wake. He will remain forever in an urn atop his father's mantle. He was eighteen._

I will be judged harshly for what I am about to do to one as flesh and blood as I, but he went too far, attacking Hermione. He put a freeze spell on me so I couldn't...

I couldn't help her for the simple fact that he knew I was stronger than he was and he hated that, so for the time being he remedied it. He made me watch as he, Crabbe and Goyle did the most unspeakable.

I've already taken care of Crabbe and Goyle. Godspeed to those two. God. Ha. I'm not sure whether or not even Merlin exists anymore. Hermione never came out of it. They said it was pneumonia, but I knew different. 

"So here we are." I say to him. He sees the blade in my hand, a simple switchblade, but with a home made extra. A potion that will reroute blood flow of any sort directly to the victim's lungs.

He's shaking, now that is aware what is to become of him. I figure now is better a time than any, and so I put the blade to his throat. He jumped; never knowing the feel of cold steel against such tender, warm flesh.

He is to suffer just as she. 


	2. Spare No One

I stop to think for a moment... An epiphany has come to me! Yes, I see what my true intentions are now! Lucius. **_His_** are the eyes that I see in the quivering boy before me! **_His_** are the influences that led Draco, Crabbe and Goyle to do such things! 

So now I have a motive.

What's this? Shaking your head no? I don't believe you know what I'm thinking, so why then should I stop? I will take the risk and remove the gag; I have the need to hear what you have to say.

"Killing me to get to my father will never work! He and mother will just get together and _fuck_ to create another heir! I am solely a possession!"

Where did you learn that word? 

"You are a coward, remedying your grief by causing that of another! That disgusting mudblood deserved to die!"

I have heard enough, so back goes the gag. Ow! Oooohh... That wasn't very nice. I should have known you would have done that... and drawn blood too. "That will most definitely not curb me from what I need to do. Just as Crabbe and Goyle felt they had to please you by holding her down and raping her, so shall I please her friends and family by tying you down and drowning you inside your own body. Coward am I none."

He has become determined to fight, now lashing out in the chair I have him bound to. The irony of this very situation is this: I caught him by surprise in his very. Own. Element. His bedroom. I find it funny that the house elves, his mother, father, nobody has come to check in on him. Perhaps he is right. He is just a possession. Well, my deed will be somewhat charitable then.

On with it.

I put the blade back to his throat and close my eyes... one quick _swipe_ and I have succeeded. He's still thrashing, which just made the cut deeper and more painful... Ah, and I see the potion is working just as I needed it to. His movements are slowing now, as if he has accepted his fate. He is so… beautiful. Beautiful in the only way evil can be. Could have been forever. This had gone beyond the need for wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"The mistake has been nearly corrected. No worries, Malfoy." 

There is only one thing I can't handle. He is looking straight into my eyes. 

I have no choice but to look away, only until his fight to live is over. I can hear his lungs filling, and it makes my stomach tie itself in knots.

Once I am sure, I turn back and remove the gag and the bindings and take him to his bed. He is arranged and the outer wound healed. "I have nothing but respect for you now, Draco Malfoy." And with that, I slide my palm down his forehead, closing his wide-open eyes. "Three down…"


	3. But Narcissa

I don't ever recall having such stealth, such cunning as I make my way out of his room and past a few house elves, sleeping on the job. I let them, knowing that is likely the only sleep they ever get. I pass Lucius' office; from the little I saw in passing, he treasures all things clean and white, like death's light. Kind of ironic, considering he deals in death and black magic, or the dark arts as we call it.

I am almost where I need to be when I hear something stir. I hide as quickly and quietly as I can, laughing at myself when I realize it's only Narcissa, Draco's mum.

Oh no. I've forgotten about her. She will be a widow and lose a dear son all in the same day. Although Draco was absolutely rotten, she adored him. She brought out the good in him. I watch as she knocks lightly on his door. Obviously there has been no answer, and so she walks in. I cannot bear another second. I must finish what I was set out to do.

I am nearly to the Malfoy library, where I know Lucius is studying something difficult, I can tell by his furrowed brow. I set one foot in, when suddenly:

"Lucius! Come quickly!" Narcissa has discovered her son; her voice is flooded with tears. I notice that his expression is uncaring as he sets the book he was reading down. He gives off an air of annoyance at the fact that he was interrupted. "Lucius!" The sorrow has become a scream. She knows now, so I must act now.

He passes me. I find it... odd that he doesn't feel my presence in the room. Often people know whether or not they are alone. No matter. I pull my switchblade and come behind him with the same stealth I executed earlier, and all it takes is one quick _swipe_. The adrenaline has heightened my senses. The feeling I receive is incredible, as though I am tearing open his throat with my bare hands. Exquisite. 

I figure Lucius to turn and fight, and that he does. He pulls his wand with such speed that I never saw his hand move. "Just let it happen, Malfoy. Evil deserves no place here."

I am ignored, obviously, and he points his wand, forgetting one important element. How does one speak with a gaping throat wound? His cravat is soaked with his own blood (there was not one trace of potion left on the blade),and from the looks of it, the flow is so severe that it is rolling down his chest and stomach in thick droplets. He opens his mouth, still fighting on, and tries to say... anything. Nothing will come forth from his parted lips, save his own life flowing from between.   I hear his wand hit the hardwood floor.

In looking up at him, his weakening stature, I see that in his eyes stands the realization of what he was being called for. He showed genuine hurt, images of his son's ruin most likely the things flashing before his eyes. Backing himself up against the wall, he slides down into a sitting position; his head falling forward once his body had made contact with the floor. 

Through the hair hanging in his face I can barely see that he has died with his eyes open. They look already as though covered with cataracts, what was once dark blue now simply light gray.

I can hear sobbing coming from Draco's room, and so I head toward it, my curiosity getting the better of me. I look in from the mirror on a vanity dresser placed directly against the wall across from his doorway, and I can see her there, cradling her son in her arms.

She has stopped calling for her husband, knowing he must not care. My chest tightens as I look at the tears rolling down her face. 

My deed has been done, and as I walk away, I can't help but look once more, the words to familiar poetry playing in my mind as though _she_ is reciting them.

_…She thinks of when the boy was young,_

_All the battles she had won_

_Just to give him life._

_That man._

_She loved that man for all his life._

_But now we meet to take him flowers,_

_And only god knows why._

_For what's the use of pressing palms_

_When children fade in mother's arms._

_It's a cruel world,_

_We've so much to lose,_

_And what we have to learn, we rarely choose..._

_...'Take care, my love,' she said._

_You have been loved..._

_...If I was weak, forgive me._

_But I was terrified._

_You brushed my eyes with angel's wings, full of love._

_The kind that makes devils cry._

_So these days,_

_My life has changed._

_And I'll be fine._

_But she just sits and counts the hours,_

_Searching for... Her crime…_

_...So if it's god that took her son,_

_he cannot be the one living in her mind..._

_...'Take care, my love,' She said._

_You have been loved._

**_Long may you live, Narcissa Malfoy._**


End file.
